


years upon years

by fishydwarrows



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Writing, friendshippppppppppppppppppp, lucretia writes and davenport captains, mostly just sad and sad, somewhat gay, the adventure zone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: A series of moments between Davenport and Lucretia during their 100 year journey.





	years upon years

**Author's Note:**

> this is a gift for my good buddy emmaline (@ofhauntings)
> 
> enjoy the angst
> 
> comments are greatly appreciated

Lucretia was loathe to say that she was the shiest of the I.P.R.E. crew but, sometimes one had to admit their faults. So when Captain Davenport plopped down on the seat next to her in the kitchen she was perplexed and more than a little bit anxious.

 

But she resumed writing in her journal, occasionally shooting glances at the Captain. The journal was a newer one that she had picked up in the last cycle, the pages were crisp and still held the smell of fresh ink. Her pen scratched on the page swiftly.

 

She was cataloging the resources from the current cycle when Davenport cleared his throat. Lucretia looked up from her work questioningly.

 

“It’s a lovely day,” the Captain said. He fiddled with the collar of his red uniform. It was stiff and had a starch-like quality, almost like a costume or once-worn suit.

 

“I hadn’t noticed.” Lucretia replied. Davenport murmured a noise of assent.

 

Then, they sat in awkward silence.

 

Lucretia went back to work, writing about the culture of the world they had two months left to inhabit. She made a mental note to ask Merle about cataloging the flora and fauna later.

 

Davenport cleared his throat again.

 

“What are ya writing about?”

 

Lucretia rested a hand on the open page of her journal and pondered what the Captain must want.

 

“Um,” she began tentatively, “I was recording the irrigation practices of the native halflings of this world.” Davenport shifted and leaned over Lucretia's shoulder.

 

“Wow, Lucretia these are really accurate schematics!” He exclaimed, “Like, holy shit, really accurate. Have you ever considered doing portraits?”

 

Lucretia smiled shyly, “No, not really. I think I'm more of a writer than an artist.”

 

Davenport scoffed, “Please, Lucretia. You could make big bucks with your skill.” He jumped down from the seat and made his way over to the kitchen counter.

 

“Drink?” Davenport asked.

 

“Ah, yes.” Lucretia responded. She examined her sketches. Were they really that good? She had only started sketching a few years ago. “Uh, Captain?”

 

“Yes?” Davenport turned with drinks in hand.

 

“May I ask why you’re here? I mean, I don’t want to seem rude but… don't you have other places to be? Plans to construct? Commands to give? Why are you here with me?” Davenport's eyes widened and he scrambled back over to the seat, handing her the water as he hoisted himself onto the cushion.

 

“To be frank, Lucretia… well… it’s been five years- sorry, _cycles_ \- and I’m the Captain, so… I assumed it was my duty to get to know my crew for the better. And,” He sighed and slumped into the chair, cradling his cup, “We don't have a home anymore, except for us. _We_ are all that's left of our home and… I've spent so much time focusing on _this,_ ” Davenport swept a hand at the ship, “that I sometimes worry that if we get out of this: I won't have any home to remember.” Davenport dragged a hand over his face and smiled sadly at Lucretia.

 

“Sorry for the emotional baggage. I just thought… since you are our chronicler… _you_ would remember the most about home.”

 

Lucretia gazed somberly at the floor.

 

“I understand you completely Captain. I, too…” Her voice hitched, “Gods, I miss home so much.”

 

Davenport extended his arms and Lucretia leaned into a slightly awkward hug.

 

They sat in silence again, but this time it was more comfortable.

 

“Lucretia…” Davenport said after some time, “I may be your Captain, but… I have a feeling we’re gonna end up being family… please, call me Davenport and consider… being my friend?”

 

Lucretia laughed, “There's no need for question, Davenport.”

 

Davenport punched Lucretia on the shoulder playfully.

 

“Well, see you, buddy.”

 

Still nursing his cup, Davenport hopped down from the seat and made way for the engine room.

 

“See you, friend.” Lucretia smiled, and bent back over her journal.

 

-

 

“Do you ever think about how…How we could all be lost in an instant?”

 

Lucretia stared up at the twinkling stars of the world of their twenty fourth cycle. Davenport swished the wine in his glass.

 

“Every minute.”

 

Lucretia fixed her eye on a strange looking constellation and grimaced.

 

“You’d think after twenty odd years we’d be desensitized to this shit.”

 

“Yeah, you'd think.”

 

“But we aren't.”

 

“No. We aren’t.”

-

Davenport violently jerked the Starblaster’s wheel to the left.

 

“Barry! How far away is the fucking thing?!” he called down the hatch.

 

“Two miles!” Barry wheezed from the open hole, “But Captain I don't think I’ll make it two minutes more with this wound! I’ll see you next cycle!”

 

“Fuck!”

 

Davenport gripped the wheel, his knuckles white with tension. The Starblaster weaved its way around the black and shining tendrils of the Hunger, just missing a clip to its side.

 

“Davy!” Davenport heard the voice of Merle down below. “Davy! I couldn't delay it. Barry’s dead. I’ll watch the damn Hunger, you _need_ someone up there with ya!”

 

Davenport grit his teeth and tightly swerved up.

 

“Merle, it's fine! I don't _need_ anyone right now!”

 

The Starblaster shuddered with a hit to its underbelly.

 

“Like hell ya don’t! I’m sending Lucretia up! There's only the three of us left and she's the help you’ll accept!”

 

There was the sound of anxious heel hitting metal and with a glance back Davenport could see Lucretia. She had one of her journals pressed against her chest like a Fantasy Life Preserver.

 

She stumbled over.

 

“Tell me what to do!” She called over the shriek of the ship’s emergency siren.

 

Davenport dived the ship down and saw Lucretia stumble against the sonar. There was a thunk below, followed by a string of creative plant based curses.

 

“Try to find us a way out of here!” He pointed to the sonar equipment, “The clouds are too thick and we need visibility. Find a way out!” Lucretia nodded and turned her attention to the device.

 

The ship’s fate would be in their hands. Davenport hoped to hell they’d make it.

 

-

 

Lucretia blinked at the entry she was trying to write. She had been repeating the same word for about three minutes.

 

She couldn’t help it.

 

Next to her, was the almost transparent outline of Merle. In the same meditative position he learned last cycle. His features were indistinct and swirling slightly about his face. Lucretia rubbed at her face and slumped backwards next to the mist-like figure.

 

She stared up at the fluorescent lights of the room and waited until her eyes unfocused. Hoping for some relief from... _everything._

 

A shadow made her vision go dark.

 

Lucretia blinked and sat up.

 

“Do you need some company?” Davenport asked, sitting next to her in the process.

 

“I...uh,” she began, searching for some conversation starter. “I…”

 

Davenport looked at her questioningly. Lucretia swallowed and was silent. She shifted, put her journal to the ground, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

 

Lucretia bit her lip; her eyes flicked over to Davenport, who was looking at her calmly and expectantly. She nodded just slightly. Davenport’s eyes looked over to Merle’s ghost of a body for a moment before they turned away.

 

“Did I ever tell ya how I started at the Institute?”

 

Lucretia shook her head.

 

“No? Well, it went like thing. First day of classes, I was -what- maybe thirty seven or something. I hear a fucking huge bang outside Biology Room Seven. Turns out, it was this dwarf dude. He was grungy, funny looking, and covered in what _I_ thought had to be some kind of poison. He turns to me, this dwarf, and he’s got half his damn eyebrow burned off, and his face looks like Fantasy Dick Van Dyke in Fantasy Mary Poppins. Ya know? All singed and covered in soot? So I ask: _Are you okay, Mister?_ And _he_ says _: I was trying to give the plants some extra energy._ And _I_ said: _It looks more like you’ve tried to make an explosive._ Then the dwarf just laughs and punches me on the shoulder and says: _I like you. Wanna see my tulips?_ And then _I_ laugh and say: _Is that an innuendo?_ And he shakes his head no and gives me a tour of the Biology lab.” Davenport chuckled softly.

 

“And?” Lucretia asked quietly.

 

“And that was the first day I met Merle.” Davenport looked at Merle’s wisp-shape again, his eyes soft. “Of course, he probably doesn’t remember it. His old brain of his.”

 

He wiped at his eyes.

 

“And mine too. I’ve got just as old a brain. We all do. Sometimes I forget.”

 

“Yeah,” Lucretia said, her voice barely a whisper, “Sometimes I forget too.”

 

They both watched as Merle’s outline dissipated into nothing.

 

-

 

Davenport stared at the ground.

 

The new world that was to be their home.

 

The new world that they were killing.

 

He felt sick, and glanced back at the bottle of wine left on the table; against it lay a pack of tarot cards. He and Merle had been playing a little Yooker to keep their minds off of... _it._

 

Davenport ambled over to the table, grabbed the wine bottle, and uncorked it. He raised it to his mouth in a sadistic kind of salute and sank to the floor. Cradling the bottle between his legs he wept. Not the sniffling kind with soggy noses and loud honks, but silent and somber. He took turns: drinking, weeping, and gazing at the ground in sorrow. Then he gazed at the ground until all he saw was black.

 

“Davy?”

 

“Davenport?”

 

“Davenport!”

 

Davenport awoke groggily and was greeted by the sight of Lucretia and Lup worriedly leaning over him.

 

“What’s up short-stack? Why’re ya sleeping in the cold? It doesn’t seem like the best night for camping.”

 

Lup raised an eyebrow.

 

“Davenport…” Lucretia said softly. Her eyes flickered to the bottle and widened only just.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes. I’m fine.”

 

Lucretia’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m _fine._ ”

 

-

 

She found him huddled on the floor.

 

 _Merle_ , sweet old Merle.

 

Had wandered into her whilst she searched for the rest for the rest of the crew.

 

A stroke of luck.

 

Lucretia had knocked out the dwarf and had went on to search for her Captain.

 

She looked at him now.

 

His face was tear streaked, his eyes red. She crouched down to where he lay. So small, so...not right.

 

This wasn’t what she expected.

 

_She didn’t want this._

 

Davenport uncurled from himself and looked up at her.

 

“I’m...Davenport?” he said, his voice uncertain of his own name.

 

“Yes.” Lucretia said, her voice nearly breaking, “Yes, you’re Davenport.”

 

She extended her hand slowly.

 

“And I’m Lucretia.”

**Author's Note:**

> check out my other taz fics
> 
> all art is done by me!
> 
> i draw taz art and animatics: http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com/


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